Drabbles Aplenty, Drabbles Galore
by Elphie Bubble
Summary: My collection of Wicked drabbles. Rating for tiny bits of language and slight innuendo.
1. Chapter 1

Since I have a tendency to write random Wicked drabbles, I figured it best I had somewhere to put them. And right here looked very nice.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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My meaningless existence has always been torture. Every day for five years spent holed up in some forgotten, earthbound hell, trying to fool myself into thinking that I hadn't already read my one grubby book nearly fifty times, or that I was actually somewhere vaguely interesting. Apart from my occasional relocation to a different hideyhole in the middle of the night, I was locked inside some filthy apartment, hoping that the next time I saw sunlight I'd be a different, less noticeable, color. Then I could wander to my heart's content without wearing dark covering over every inch of my skin. I could show people more than just my eyes without fear of recognition. But even those idle dreams couldn't keep me sufficiently occupied, and I always found myself watching the people outside my window. I always kept my hood up, of course, and was constantly terrified that the cry, "It's the Wicked Witch!" would go up, but with each passing day, my apathy grew.

I was contemplating a knife and how nice it would look jabbed into me, and I kept thinking to myself that while I was at it, I could do a little exploratory surgery to find the alleged, shriveled raisin of my heart when I heard a commotion outside my one, self-installed window. Or rather, self-poked hole in the wall. I sighed at my knife and laid it down to see who was being stoned in the public square this time. To my surprise, people were gathering around a small platform without a single torture device or angry mob in sight. Instead, a petite figure clad in pink was clambering onto the platform. I spotted a silver tiara atop her head and the golden curls that dangled below it.

The realization of who this woman was hit me, but it was half-hearted, like a slap from a lump of spaghetti. The fact that I was looking at my best friend from my distant college days impacted me no more than the realization that I needed to buy some more fruit to prevent my oncoming scurvy.

I watched as she delivered a speech with all of the bubbliness that she had always possessed. The hole I was watching through seemed to be a portal into the past; she had not changed in the slightest.

When she had finished her speech, she left, none the wiser that her green-skinned ex-roommate was only a few feet away. I waited until her glittering form had completely disappeared before I curled up catlike to take a nap and do my best to dream away the one-sided encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not much has changed since Chapter 1, so Wicked is still not mine.

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Boq peered down into the cup of tea he held on the silver platter. The brown liquid inside still swirled with leftover inertia from his vigorous stirring the moment before. It needed to be hot enough to require blowing, the cup filled two thirds of the way with tea, two sugar cubes added, and served at exactly 8:17 PM. It had become a chant inside his mind and he no longer needed to think while preparing his lady's tea. _Steaming, 2/3 tea, 2 cubes, 8:17, _he said to himself over and over, St_eaming, 2/3 tea, 2 cubes, 8:17_. Sometimes he could be so engrossed with this that he would be able to pay no attention to his crippled lady and her puppy-like attempts at seduction.

He knew that his trick wouldn't work this morning. He would need all his focus on the matter at hand if he weren't to ruin the whole plan.

"Boq?" cried a feeble voice from the upstairs of the mansion.

He glanced at a clock. It was nearly 8:18. He was already botching things up! He hastily slipped the tiny, unlabeled bottle in his trouser pocket and hurried upstairs.

"Here, Milady," he said with a bow, "I apologize for my lateness. I lost track of the time."

"I would be more likely to forgive you if you just called me 'Nessa', Boq," she said.

"Sorry, Milady."

Nessa gave one of her aggrieved sighs and took the proffered cup of tea. She took an enormous whiff of it and closed her eyes dreamily.

Boq waited, barely daring to breathe, to see if she would smell the new ingredient to the recipe, but she merely smiled.

"There's nothing like tea to help one get to sleep, is there, Boq?"

"No, Milady," Boq agreed, hoping that this tea would not only help her to sleep, but keep her from waking ever again.

"Boq, please don't call me that," Nessa said, lowering her cup, "You know I don't like it. I want to be friends. Friends can be casual with each other."

"I do not think that that would be appropriate, Milady."

Nessa surveyed him sadly, "Why must you insist on being so cold, Boq? You know I've always loved you."

Boq's face did not falter, though his conscience did.

Nessa shook her head and lifted her tea toward her mouth. For Boq, the world slowed. Somehow, before even a single drop touched her pale lips, he managed to get the cup away from her. And he was bustling, bustling from the room, hurrying downstairs to pour the poison in the sink. Often he felt as though he didn't have a heart, but sometimes he knew that he was only lacking the part of a heart necessary to kill her.

"Boq?" Nessa called after him, the question as frail a butterfly as herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Still ain't mine.

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Galinda threw open the broom cupboard door. "I found you, Elphie!" she squealed.

Elphaba sighed and came out of her hiding place.

"Come on now, it's time for our shopping trip!" Galinda told her.

"You know, Galinda, there was a _reason_ I was hiding from you," Elphaba said wearily, but Galinda ignored her, choosing instead to grab a green arm and tug. Elphaba followed her reluctantly until they had gotten off Shiz campus and were in the town square.

"Here we are," Galinda said happily as she stopped in front of a store, "My favorite place to shop," she looked behind her, "Elphie?"

Elphaba came out from behind a very confused looking street vendor. "Sorry," she said. She had been hoping that Galinda would be so excited about the concept of spending money that she wouldn't notice that she was alone.

"Doesn't this place just have the most gorgeous façade?" Galinda asked.

Elphaba looked at it, "Well. It's very. Um. Pink."

"Exactly!"

"Galinda, I'm not so sure I want to be here. Actually, scratch that. I _know_ I don't want to be here."

Galinda glared at her. "Elphie. We talked about this. I did that thing that you like to do. What was it called?" she paused, "Reading? Well, anyway, now you have to do something with me that I like. Now come_ on_!" She manhandled Elphaba into the store, the green girl fighting her all the way. Needless to say, they attracted some weird looks.

To Galinda's supreme pleasure and Elphaba's dismay, the inside of the shop was even pinker than the outside. Galinda immediately began picking up clothes (most of them pink, some of them pinker) and handing them to Elphaba. After the very out of place green girl had enough clothes to make a circus tent from, Galinda shoved her into a dressing room and told her to try on everything and model it.

Elphaba managed to get herself into each ensemble (with difficulty) and awkwardly allowed Galinda to model her since she didn't seem to be able to do so herself.

Seventeen outfits later, Elphaba found something she liked. It appeared to be the only non-pink outfit in the whole store. She had found the deep purple dress in a corner behind a sales rack. As far as she was concerned, it was perfect. It was velvety and pretty, but not too bright or attention-grabbing. Besides, it went well with her skin. To Galinda's disappointment, she turned down all suggestions of gaudy jewelry and belts to liven it up and purchased the dress. With a little coaxing, she talked Galinda into leaving the store for the day and made her way outside. Elphaba blinked her eyes in the sunshine outside. Everything had a pink tint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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The Wicked Witch of the West drifted a mile or so off the ground. The wind whipped around her and caused her broom to twitch under her, but she hardly noticed. She was too absorbed with watching the sky in front of her to pay any attention. Nearly-black storm clouds had gathered in an impressive and humbling blanket across most of the sky. Lightning played in between the ominous thunderheads and thunder raised its voice at it. The rain hadn't started yet, but it was threatening to, and the Witch knew that when it did, she wouldn't care. It was worth it just to be this close to one of nature's predators.

As she watched, a bolt of lightning skittered downward like a dart and hit a farmhouse on the ground. It leaped into flames nearly instantly and the Witch wondered without really caring if anyone was inside. The thunder chastised the lightning's actions in it's impressive, rumbling voice, and the rain began to fall. It needed little momentum, and in only a few seconds, it was falling very thickly. Occasional drops hit the uncovered bits of the Witch's skin and where they struck turned red and puffy, but she only flew higher until she was above the storm.

She was surprised by how clear the sky was up here, and how cold. She rubbed her aggrieved skin and pulled her cloak tighter around herself before diving into the middle of the storm. She hurtled downward, among lightning bolts that seemed to respect her as they dived as well without touching her. She went into a spin and cackled in the rush. She dived until she ran out of sky and touched down on the edge of a forest. She looked up and was disappointed at how small the storm seemed from down here.


	5. Chapter 5

This one is for Blondeinthebubble for being such an amazing reviewer and G(a)linda enthusiast!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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Glinda gripped the pointed black hat in one hand and the empty little green bottle in the other. They were her only crutches; they were the only things holding her up as she kneeled on the floor beside her bed, tears streaming down her face.

Elphaba was gone.

Fiyero was gone.

Nessa was gone, Boq was no longer human.

And she was ruler of Oz. But even with her nearly unlimited power, she could do nothing to help her friends. Even the most powerful of witches couldn't bring back the dead or heal the incurable.

And it was her fault that they were gone. Her jealousy had overcome her. She had sold out. They had paid. And the price was their lives.

She had never been able to do anything right. Even in the womb she had been screwing things up. Often she had been told the tale how when her mother went into labor, the baby inside of her, little Glinda, had not been angled correctly. It had nearly killed her mother, and it did do permanent damage to her that would keep Glinda an only child. But the baby hadn't been harmed. No, Glinda had been fine. She had always looked out for herself first, and she would stoop to manipulation to do it.

Here, nearly 25 years later, she was still on that same track. She had screwed things up with her only friends, but she had come out on top. And just as always, it didn't make her any happier.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Wicked still isn't mine, and it never will be, so I'm going to discontinue the disclaimers. :D

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As Nessarose stepped from her estate for the first time in nearly a decade, she peered about nervously. She couldn't help but be skittish. After all, she was a tyrant. Her subjects wanted her dead. But _she_ wanted to take a walk. And she always got what she wanted, after all. So she walked. The enchantment on her shoes really was remarkable. She was only a little unsteady, though her legs hadn't worked since she was born. She did a little spin and looked up to see a young Munchkin girl with her thumb in her mouth watching her like she was frozen. Both stood silently for a moment before the child ran off with a frightened squeal.

_By the Unnamed God_, thought Nessa to herself, _I really have become something wicked, haven't I?_

She wished for a moment that Elphaba hadn't run off and had, instead, taken her rightful place as Emminent Thropp. Maybe then Munchkinland would be less of a shit hole. Yes, Miss Nessarose knew that her subjects blamed the drought on her and her evilness. Everyone was scared of her. And she was ashamed of herself.

She stepped onto the closest thing this part of Munchkinland had to a town square. All the Munchkins congregated on the cobblestone quickly retreated from her, as though scared she would burn them. She sat on a bench and ignored the gasps and points. _Believe me_, she thought, _I want to die as much as you would like me to._

A Munchkin screamed and Nessa wondered if she were really that hideous. But she glanced up and saw that the Munchkin wasn't looking at her, but far above her. She craned her neck and looked up. A house was falling from the sky. And it was headed right for her bench. Right before it hit her, she thought bitterly to herself, _And here I am, mourning the wicked._


	7. Chapter 7

"A _picnic_?"

"Yes, Elphie, a picnic. Come on, it'll be fun!" Galinda told her brightly.

"What'll we have to eat?" Elphaba asked her.

Galinda grinned, "Oh, that's a surprise!"

Elphaba warily followed Galinda down to the canal where there was already a picnic blanket and baskets laid out. She sat down and crossed her legs awkwardly.

"I don't like surprises, Galinda."

Galinda pouted, "This is a nice one. Open the picnic basket."

Elphaba sighed and peered inside the basket. When she saw what was inside, she gave Galinda a confused look.

"Pull it out, silly!" Galinda prompted.

Elphaba obediently pulled out two large chunks of ripe watermelon.

"See?" Galinda asked, "I told you pink went good with green."


	8. Chapter 8

"No, Daddy, no!" squealed the little girl as her father held her high above his head and spun her around and around.

"Stop!" she yelled.

Instantly he stopped spinning her and placed her gently on the ground.

"Why'd you stop?" she demanded.

"You told me to, Galinda," he told her.

She pouted at him. "I was only kidding, Daddy. You weren't supposed to_ really_ stop," she said with the air of someone explaining something to a mentally challenged person.

"Oh," was all he said as he turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going!" exclaimed the little girl.

"I thought I would leave since I obviously don't know you well enough to play with you," he said with a trace of a grin.

"No, Daddy! Stay and play with me! Please?" she begged.

He walked back over to her and pulled a golden curl because he knew it annoyed her. "Okay. What are we going to play?"

"Dollies!"

He sighed as she handed him a doll done up in purple with yellow bows.

"Her name's Jessamine. She likes to fix her hair and is friends with this one, Maggie. Maggie likes to..."

Galinda's father tuned her out at this point and just concentrated on playing dollies badly enough that she asked him to leave.

"Daddy?" she asked a few moments later, laying down her doll.

"Yes?" he asked, while hoping that her next words would reprieve him of dolly duty.

"You would do anything for me, right?"

"Of course, Sweetie," he told her reassuringly.

"You would do anything to make me happy?"

"In a heartbeat," he said, not realizing he was stepping right into a trap.

Galinda looked up at him. "I'm not happy, Daddy."

"You aren't?" he asked, surprised.

She shook her head.

"What would make you happy?"

"A pony," she said, biting her lip.

"A po--?" he groaned. She had done it again. She managed to trick him into buying something for her at least once every week.

His little girl grinned innocently at him and smirked at her dolls once he had left to find a pony.


	9. Chapter 9

The Wizard paced his study. _She_ would be arriving soon. The only green girl that Oz could claim and his only child. Madame Morrible had told him of the girl's unusual magical ability and her...unfortunate discoloration. Not that he minded; in a way it fit. He expected any child of his to stand out not only in talent but in appearance, too. If she had been plain, he would have been sorely disappointed.

Morrible had also told him of the girl's fervor for Animal rights. Ah well. It was appropriate that she have passion. He could quickly breed from her this particular passion, however, and replace it with some of his own. He was confident that she would do whatever he asked when she learned that he was her true father. Who wouldn't want Oz's leader as a father, after all? But he would not tell her of her parentage today. No, she would find out soon enough.

The Wizard was annoyed to have his musings interrupted by that idiot little sorceress, Morrible, sticking her head in his door.

"She's here, your Wonderfulness."

The Wizard's annoyance evaporated immediately. He clasped his hands together nervously. "Send her in, send her in!" he wavered and hurried into his entertaining room. He slipped easily behind the curtain and quickly manipulated the machine that left Ozians in no doubt of his power.

"Come in!" boomed the voice of the terrifying apparition that he controlled.

When he heard footsteps enter the cavernous room, he peeked slightly from behind the curtain. A girl was peering up at his apparition in apparent fear. He frowned. Who was she? Some silly little pink and blonde thing dressed to the height of fashion. Surely this wasn't his daughter...?

The blonde girl turned around, realized she was alone, hurried back to the door, and dragged in another girl.

"Don't be such a baby, Elphie!" she hissed, "This was _your_ idea!"

The new girl merely glared at her companion. The Wizard gasped. She was as green as the room around her and even though she was obviously scared, she held herself tall and commandingly.

"What do you want?" boomed the apparition.

"Are you the Wizard?" the green girl asked strongly.

"In a manner of speaking."

"We would like to talk to the Wizard. _The_ Wizard," the green girl commanded.

The Wizard smiled to himself. Her courage was admirable. He stepped from behind the curtain.


	10. Chapter 10

Fiyero awoke with a start. He rubbed his forehead and tried to remember the nightmare he had been having. Unsuccessful, he got up for a drink of water and nearly tripped over something furry on the floor. The something yowled and took a swipe at his foot.

"Sorry, Malky," he whispered and got his water.

He climbed back into the bed as carefully as possible so as not to wake up Elphaba, but even though he slipped under the covers as gently as he knew how, she gave a little moan and rolled over to face him. He held his breath for a moment, but it had been a false alarm. She was just as asleep as ever. He took a moment to admire her. The moonlight coming through the skylight gave her side an almost bluish glow and cast the rest of her into shadow. Her face was easy to make out and her hair framed it beautifully. No matter how she slept on it, it was always smooth and gorgeous. He wound a lock around his finger and stroked her cheek. It occurred to him that the only time he could be gently romantic with her was when she was asleep. Awake she did not much hold to mushiness and presents.

He noticed a thin shiver race down her body, and he pulled the blankets closer around her and drew her to him. Despite their best efforts, the apartment was always cold in the winter. With her in his arms, he found that it was easy for him to fall asleep, and he drifted into slumber with the parting murmur, "I love you, Fae."

A moment later, Elphaba opened her eyes and smiled at his sleeping, chocolate-brown form.

"I love you too, Yero."


	11. Chapter 11

"Push, Melena! Push!"

"I_ am_ pushing, you useless bastard!"

Frexspar ground his teeth together. A lifetime of service to the Unnamed God had not prepared him for this. He had conveniently missed his wife's first birthing, but she had demanded that he be there for this one.

"Elphaba!" he shouted.

His daughter looked up at him questioningly.

"Get some more towels! Quickly!"

Although she was still far too young to understand what was going on, Elphaba hurried to obey her father. She knew that any time he didn't refer to her as 'Fabala' meant that something serious was happening.

The midwife peered at Melena nervously. "The baby should have been here by now," she murmured.

"What'd she say?" Melena asked Frex desperately.

"Nothing!" he lied, "Everything is going to fine, dear. You just need to keep pushing."

Melena was about to make a biting retort when her face drained of color and she fell back against her pillow.

"Melena?" Frex asked, his voice rising in fear. "What's wrong with her?"

The midwife bit her lip. "I'm not sure either your wife or your baby are going to make it through this," she whispered.

"Daddy?" asked Elphaba, her voice much higher pitched than usual.

"Get out of here, Elphaba!"

"Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy?" Elphaba asked nervously.

"I _said_, get out of here!"

Elphaba walked stiff-leggedly from the room.

The midwife gave a small gasp, and Frex turned back around to Melena.

"The baby is coming!" the midwife exclaimed, "Oh, happy day!"

Frex could indeed see the top of a little head, and Melena opened her eyes, albeit weakly. She gave one last great push and little shoulders came into view. The midwife took over and pulled the baby out.

Frexspar and the midwife both gasped. The baby was a girl, and while her skin was the proper cream of healthy children, her little legs were all tangled together in a way that should not have been humanly possible.

"Nessarose," gasped Melena, "Name her Nessarose." And she collapsed against her pillow again. Frex hurried over to her and felt for a pulse. He sat down heavily with a dry sob.

"We've lost her."

The midwife clucked sadly, "At least you have your baby."

Frex glared at her. "Look at her! She'll never walk on those legs!" he looked up at the ceiling, addressing the Unnamed God now, "Why have you done this to me?! Why have you cursed me? All I ever wanted was a _normal_ child!"

Elphaba, who was sitting just outside, legs pulled to her chest, ear pressed to the door, heard this and was surprised to find a tear sliding down her face.


	12. Chapter 12

Guys, I can't thank you enough for your continued reading and reviewing! Your kind words always brighten my day and keep me writing. I just wanted to remind you that ideas for drabbles are never unwelcome. Sometimes my creativity could use a little nudge. ;D Anyway, thanks so much, you guys!

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The Tin Man took another swing at the tree. The damn thing was nearly as stubborn as he was and wasn't taking kindly to being cut down. Although he had been chopping away at it for at least an hour, the tree was barely gouged at all and he was glad that being made of tin took away his ability to fatigue.

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and the Tin Man growled at it, daring it to come closer. He glared at the dark clouds gathering fairly close by. A bolt of lightning struck barely a mile away and the Tin Man self-consciously remembered that he was made of metal.

The clouds were moving toward him a bit too quickly for comfort, and the Tin Man turned to seek shelter. Before he had moved a yard, the sky seemed to explode with rain. In a matter of seconds, the Tin Man was drenched. He experimentally tried to move an arm, and found it rusted so much that he couldn't move it. He tried to swear but found that his mouth was also rusted shut.

He looked longingly at the oil can that was positioned on a stump only a few feet away, but could make no move to get it.

_Great_, he thought, _I'm frozen here until someone stops and notices me and then has the sight of mind to loosen me up with the oil can_. He looked at the almost never-traveled path beside him and tried to curse again. _Isn't it typical that the first rain we have to relieve our drought-cracked land would have to land right where I was standing? _He thought bitterly and started his long wait for a savior.


	13. Chapter 13

Turtle Heart was happier than he had ever been in Quadling Country. Ever since coming to stay with the Thropps, he had spent every morning blowing glass and making toys for little Elphaba, every afternoon making love to Melena, and every evening in long religious discussions with Frexspar. So far, each of these endeavors had succeeded. Elphaba had not managed to break any of her new toys and enjoyed them anyway; Frexspar didn't suspect a thing about his wife and Turtle Heart; and no matter how Frexspar tried, he couldn't convert Turtle Heart from his Quadling beliefs, however vague and ridiculous they might have been.

Yes, things were going quite well for Turtle Heart. Even his English was improving. Munchkinland was nothing like Quadling Country. There was no running in terror from industry here. But every time he thought about his homeland, Turtle Heart felt a nagging in the back of his simple mind. He was supposed to be traveling to Ozma's court to appeal for his country to be spared, but why would he want to leave this place when it was unlikely that he ever be so happy again if he did? He felt like he belonged here. Melena was a beauty quite unlike Quadling women, Frexspar considered him as a friend and talked to him often, and Elphaba called him 'Daddy' more than she did Frexspar.

Quadlings didn't understand intense emotions like hate, but if they did, Turtle Heart would have wondered why Frexspar didn't hate him when he had stolen both his wife and his child. He would have wondered what his own family was doing in Quadling Country. He would have wondered about when he was going to leave this place. And most of all, he would have wondered when Melena was going to tell her husband that she was pregnant.


	14. Chapter 14

As of now, this is my last drabble. If, in the future, inspiration strikes me, I may write more. Thanks so much to my readers and reviewers for your unwavering confidence boosters and ideas. :D

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Elphaba loved being on her own. She loved hunting for her own food, and she loved the raw feeling of power a wand in her hand gave her. She loved the wilderness and shaping her own destiny.

What she did not like so much was the constant guilt that shrouded everything she felt with a hazy, black fog. She hated the long evenings spent with Fiyero in whatever cave they were staying in for the night, because the feelings of guilt doubled because she saw her pain mirrored in his eyes. She hated their deteriorating relationship and their long, unspoken conversations. Sometimes she hated him for not understanding and comforting her. Even more, she hated her inability to take the initiative to forgive and love him again.

She hated herself for running away without telling Glinda how much she meant to her or offering her even the smallest scrap of encouragement. She hated sitting here, doing nothing, while her best friend struggled all by herself through her mourning. She hated not being able to pop back into Glinda's life to show her that mourning the dead wasn't necessary when the dead were quite alive.

She hated her whole dismal story and whatever god that might inhabit the heavens above Oz for ruining her life. She hated her weakness and the poor, stunted soul that did indeed abide in the small recesses of her consciousness that she had denied all her life.


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